Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may Be thereat glean’d; for all the sun sees or The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair belov’d: therefore, I pray you, As you have ever been my father’s honour’d friend When he shall miss me,—as, in faith, I mean not To see him any more,—cast your good counsels Upon his passion: let myself and fortune Tug for the time to come.